Woman in a Yurt Video Diary 10 – Baptism By Fire-wood!

Baptism by fire? More like baptism by firewood! I had no idea how tough a job that would be – to stack over two dumpy loads worth of dry logs against the clock with no idea when the next torrential rains would bucket down. But I did it all on my own and just in time. I managed to stack the logs, cover them with a tarpaulin, tie it down and bring 3 days worth in to the dry of the yurt when the heavens opened and hurled little bullets of hail down for hours.

After lighting the fire my nose started to run, I sneezed over and over and thought oh shit! I’m getting a cold. But by evening, cosied under the duvet, candlelight flickering, gentle rain pattering on the canvas, a glass of red in hand, I decided I don’t need a cold right now. Sure enough by morning it has gone – pretty much anyway.

Today, my fifth in the yurt, is the second day of severe weather warnings here in mid-Wales and I’m staying holed up hobbit-like. Sitting under covers, with the wood-burner ticking over, I have the outer door of the yurt open so I can see the valley, the rain pouring down on the the decking, and scarves of smoke floating across my view. I’m reminded how much closer this all brings me to the elements and how sheltered we usually are. Back in St Albans I’d often have no idea if it was raining outside. The double glazing and central heating sheltered me from the weather. I could be on automatic about the simplest things like making a cup of tea, having a shower, washing clothes, whipping up an omelette, turning on the heating! Here it is a different matter altogether…

Would you take up the ‘wintering in a yurt in the middle of nowhere’ challenge?

Go on – I dare you!

Mind you I still have about 85 days to go and the temperature hasn’t even dropped to freezing yet.

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Five Bridges, Three Frontiers and 150 Euros

‘Was the post-break-up adventure I’d embarked upon going to end in the loneliest of deaths in the middle of nowhere? Was my determination finally to live life on my own terms going to kill me as surely as Isadora Duncan’s scarf killed her?’ Sandy Locksmith Five Bridges, Three Frontiers and 150 Euros ]
Emerging from a fever-induced fantasy of the beginning of the world Sandy faces the shocking reality. She’s held captive by a psychopathic vagrant, imprisoned in a medieval citadel cradled deep within an empty valley in rural France, and being subjected to terrifying sexual assaults. It’s the middle of a freezing December. How did she end up in such a hopeless position and what can it take to transform it? Sandy is certain that somewhere among all the unusual experiences she’s had over the previous month lies the key to her freedom. We journey back with her to the middle of November. In her late forties, post menopausal and childless Sandy has been trying to ‘create her own reality’ for months…
The first novel in the 'Waking The Lions' trilogy.